The Spring Was Not Unkind
by octocelot
Summary: The Malfoys lose their fortune in the Great Depression and move back to their roots. Scorpius learns how to deal. Historical AU, Muggle AU.


**A story for V.**

 **Also, written using prompts from QLFC as player 2 for the Arrows (epistolary, simile, player one's OTP [scorbus]) and from the historical fiction contest at Caesar's Palace.**

 **WC: 1,639**

* * *

The Malfoys were old money, the got-their fortune-by-growing-tobacco-with-John-Rolfe-in-Virginia type of old money. Of course, they brought quite a bit of a fortune from the Old World with them when they trekked across the ocean. But the old Malfoys, the Malfoys that _made_ this family, were first and foremost adventurers.

Descendant to descendant, stories were passed down of a relative being on the boat that traveled around the earth with Magellan, or of a great great great great (great?) uncle investing in the Indian Ocean trade, or of a distant predecessor who bravely left the Old World to make a new life.

But over time, the Malfoys got comfortable. They got lazy in their grand armchairs and their lavish manors. They stopped seeking travel and started seeking adventures of a different kind. They moved up North, left farming for industry, then left industry for the grand ol' stock market.

Little did they know, they would eventually return to their roots.

* * *

The sound of a ringing phone woke Draco Malfoy in the middle of the night. Four in the morning, to be precise.

Needless to say, he was not pleased.

From the room over, his son Scorpius Malfoy pressed a curious ear to the wall.

"Is this an emergency, Gerald? Calling me on a Friday morning is unusual." A pause. "Are you _sure_ , Gerald?" A huff. "You want me to withdraw all my funds?" A sigh. "As soon as the market opens?"

Scorpius could hear some muffled yelling on the other end.

"Gerald, calm down. I cannot understand you."

The yelling stopped, and Scorpius heard his father gasp.

" _What_?"

* * *

The next morning, Scorpius went down for breakfast later than usual. His family had started and finished the meal without him, but he could hear his father and mother arguing in the dining room.

"You shouldn't have invested all of our funds."

"I thought the bubble would keep going up."

"Well, obviously it didn't. Now… now what are we going to do?"

Scorpius waited until her breathing evened out until he walked into the dining room.

"Son," his father started, his face impassively cold. "Enjoy this breakfast, for it is your last in this mansion."

"Are we moving?" Scorpius's legs went rigid and his head felt like a bag of water; he already knew the answer.

"Yes."

"Why?"

"I'm afraid we are nobodys now."

Astoria took a sweeping glance at the pieces of art on the wall. Nobody would buy them, so they had little value anymore. She placed a comforting hand on her son's shoulder. "Mr. Nott was able to find us a friend of his in the country. Even when paper money is worthless, a country still needs to eat. We'll be okay. You should go pack after breakfast."

* * *

Scorpius had been given two suitcases and a backpack to pack his life into. Staring around his room, he couldn't seem to pick what was most important. A picture hanging on the wall of him and his friends seemed just as important as anything practical.

At sixteen, he felt like his life had been decided. He was going to be a farmhand for the rest of his life.

He willed himself not to cry and opted instead to angrily stuff his belongings into the suitcases. Earlier, he'd ordered everybody to stay out of his room, so nobody noticed if he shed a few tears or not.

A knock at the door startled him, but from the sound of an engine below told him what the knock was for. It was time to say goodbye.

The train ride was long and hot, but they had managed to spare a little of their dignity and dug up enough money to still travel first class.

Scorpius barely noticed when the train arrived at their stop; his mother practically had to lug him to his feet.

They climbed into a horse-drawn carriage and so it began, the Malfoy family returning to dust.

* * *

"Don't be afraid," Astoria whispered in her son's ear. "They even have a son your age."

Scorpius just shook his head and got out of the carriage, trying not to step in the puddles made by the rain, but instead getting his shoes and suit splattered with mud. _This is my life now_.

He opened his umbrella, deeply aware of the fact that Mr. Dobby had always done that for him, and grasped his mother's hand as she daintily stepped out, skirts too large for her frame. _This is my life now._

"I'm not afraid, mother."

Together, they walked towards the front of the house where his father was already waiting for them. Scorpius watched his father shake hands with a man on the porch, except this time, he wasn't in power while making this deal.

Scorpius wiped his feet on the welcome mat, muddying it til the word was no longer legible.

"Come on in!"

A boy, a little taller and broader than he was, stood there with a large grin. Scorpius offered a polite smile back and closed the umbrella, shaking off the water.

"Just leave it there." Then, Scorpius felt someone take his hand and yank his arm inside, and he knew this kid was going to be different than any of his friends back home.

* * *

Somehow, Scorpius found himself sitting at the kitchen table, still dripping water, with the farmer kid on his right.

"So, what do you like to do?" The kid propped his elbows on the table.

"Read poetry. Play chess."

"You've been cooped up like a chicken! Do you know how to ride a horse?"

Scorpius shrugged.

"What about a cow? They might buck you off, though."

"I'm a city kid," Scorpius said, and that was that.

"Well, hello _a city kid._ I'm Albus." Albus extended his hand.

Scorpius stared at it for a second, wondering why Albus was trying so hard. It wasn't like he was rich anymore. "I'm Scorpius," he said eventually, and grasped the hand with firm resignation. This was his life now.

* * *

"So, you kind of arrived at a bad time. It's October, so the harvest is over, but we'll be planting the winter wheat next month." Albus pointed at some machinery stationed in the barn where they were seated on some hay bales. "That's what we use to harvest. You won't be working that."

"Why not?"

"It's kind of dangerous. There are rumors that Bobby lost a testicle to one of those machines. I haven't seen Bobby like that, so I can't be sure." Albus smiled again.

Scorpius squinted back. They seemed to do a lot of that.

"So we're just waiting around the whole winter?"

"Yeah."

Scorpius sat back into the hay, not minding that his hair was picking up some fluff. He almost looked like a farmer boy from afar with his overalls. You'd have to look closer to see his spotless skin and smooth hands.

"My clothes looks decent on you," Albus offered.

Scorpius almost smiled. "Thanks."

* * *

The next spring was not an unkind one. The winter wheat peeked its head out from the earth, tasting the air after being woken from its frozen sleep. A bird nested in the tree outside the place where Scorpius and his family shared their rented room and sang sweetly enough that he didn't mind that the bird was like an alarm clock. Outside, the chickens fought for sunny spots.

Scorpius went outside with Albus every day, sometimes into town, but mostly just in the fields. He surveyed the land with a now familiar eye, knowing the shape of the earth and the lines of the trees. Albus pointed out where the rabbits lived and how to spot a deer resting in the grass. Scorpius learned how to sprint and dodge between the trees, just quickly enough to avoid Albus's grasp for a little while.

Sometimes, they even stole out of the house at night and climbed to the top of the barn, Albus first, and tried to spook each other. Nights were so different in the country, unmasked and honest without the glow of the city to blind the looker's eye. Albus taught Scorpius how to find constellations. Scorpius learned how to climb back into bed quietly.

Scorpius adjusted.

But today, he settled down. He sat in his chair at the kitchen table and set out his paper and pen.

 _Dear Braden Parkinson,_

 _I'm writing, finally. Sorry about disappearing into thin air. I hesitated to write you because I didn't want you to know I had moved to a farm._

 _But here I am. It's not so bad._

 _The work hasn't picked up yet, so I spend most of my day outside horsing around. I've been keeping up with my studies, though I don't imagine I'll be going to university any time soon. There's this new kid I've met. I think you'd like him. He knows how to have a good time. Though he's not the most enlightened on philosophy and history and all that junk, he knows a lot about the plants and animals. It's a talent, how he can spot a deer when it's so well camouflaged._

 _When the planting season starts, I will be helping with that._

 _I probably shouldn't tell you this, but my dad worries about our finances a lot. It seems like we've made friends with our...landlords (?), the Potters. They're just all very friendly, if I'm being honest. I think we'll have a place to stay until my dad and I both can get real jobs._

 _I honestly kind of like it here. Maybe you can visit sometime._

 _You know how my family was originally adventurers? I feel like this is my adventure in that long line, as silly as that sounds._

 _I hope this letter finds you well and in good health. Let me know how the others are doing!_

 _Sincerely,_

 _Scorpius Malfoy_


End file.
